


Play Among the Stars

by Elenchus



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:32:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2517623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenchus/pseuds/Elenchus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An everyone-has-superpowers modern AU. Enjolras and Grantaire train together.</p><p>"Enjolras drew in a sharp breath and reflexively grabbed for Grantaire’ shirt with his free hand. Grantaire laughed, and if he’d sounded the slightest bit mocking Enjolras would have let go and taken his chances with the ground. But he just sounded delighted, like he always did when he was flying. Grantaire might be a pessimist and general pest on the ground, but set him free in the air and he was a new man."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Among the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgeandEnvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgeandEnvy/gifts).



> This is nominally a Marvel AU, but no actual Marvel knowledge is required. I just wanted a little background context to help make things fit together.

“Come on, Iron Man and Captain America do it all the time! We’ve all seen the footage. Put ‘er here, Helius.” Grantaire waggled his eyebrows hopefully at Enjolras as he held out his right arm.

Enjolras looked back dubiously. “I’ve also seen footage of Captain America riding on Iron Man’s back, but that doesn’t make it a good idea.”

“Woah there, I thought we were talking about _flying_ positions!” Grantaire grinned as Enjolras tried to pretend he hadn’t heard or understood.

“Maybe you could carry me by my shoulders,” Enjolras tried hopefully.

“Yeah, maybe that would work if I had super strength and you didn’t need full range for at least one arm. But unless you’ve got some black-market serums you haven’t told me about, I’m voting for option B. Look, just try it out – no one’s here to see.”

Enjolras grudgingly put his left arm around Grantaire’s neck and placed his foot atop Grantaire’s. Grantaire moved his right arm around Enjolras’ waist, holding him tightly. Enjolras had to bite his lip to keep from asking Grantaire yet _again_ to swear not to drop him.

“You ready?” Grantaire asked. Enjolras nodded – he was as ready as he supposed he _could_ be – and Grantaire lifted slowly, gently, into the air.

Enjolras drew in a sharp breath and grabbed for Grantaire’ shirt with his free hand without meaning to. Grantaire laughed, and if he’d sounded the slightest bit mocking Enjolras would have let go and taken his chances with the ground. But he just sounded delighted, like he always did when he was flying. Grantaire might be a pessimist and general pest on the ground, but set him free in the air and he was a new man.

Enjolras had often envied Grantaire’s powers. His own had never made him so happy.

“Steady there, Chief,” Grantaire murmured into Enjolras’ ear. “Everything all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Enjolras. He straightened himself out and took his hand away from Grantaire’s chest to prove it. “Perfectly fine.” He didn’t feel fine; he felt incredibly vulnerable, one wrong move away from a desperate fall – but then, that was his whole life, wasn’t it, ever since his powers had awoken. He’d never let that stop him before. He wouldn’t start now.

Emboldened, he stretched out his right arm and took aim at the practice targets they’d set up that morning. “Ready?” he asked Grantaire.

“Always,” Grantaire replied. “You know I love to watch you work.”

Enjolras breathed in deeply and concentrated on the palm of his hand. He felt a faint prickling, then a slight warmth, then a moment of scorching heat before sparks of light flew out of his palm towards the targets.

The force rocked him back, and his shoulder collided with Grantaire’s cheek. Grantaire gave a grunt of surprise and the world gave a sickening lurch as they both toppled backwards together.

Grantaire pulled Enjolras in close, and when they hit the ground it was Grantaire who took the brunt of the fall. Thankfully, they didn’t have very far to go.

“Argh,” said Grantaire.

Enjolras nodded breathlessly in agreement. He opened his mouth to apologize for miscalculating the recoil and losing control of his own power, but the words caught in his throat. Grantaire’s arm was still wrapped around him, and their faces were so close together that Enjolras could see how much variation there was in the brown of Grantaire’s eyes. Odd, how he’d never noticed that before. He was finding it hard to look away now. “You didn’t drop me,” he said at last.

Grantaire’s face broke into a smile. No one would ever call him handsome, but when he smiled like that –

Well, when he smiled like that, “no one” might have to take some time to reevaluate.

“I promised, didn’t I?” said Grantaire. He brushed a strand of hair out of Enjolras’ face with his free hand. The gesture felt strangely intimate, and for a moment Enjolras wasn’t quite sure he remembered how to breathe. Ridiculous. He couldn’t let a little hovering a few feet off the ground affect him so. “I know I’ve got a reputation for breaking those, but you should know by now I’d never want to-” Grantaire paused a moment for emphasis, and his gentle smile morphed into a self-satisfied grin, “ _let you down_.”

Enjolras tried to summon up a stare of appropriate opprobrium and horror. He felt his efforts sabotaged by the tickle of laughter in his throat. “That-” a laugh escaped, despite his best intentions, “that was awful, Grantaire, that was the most unfunny joke I’ve ever-“ another laugh snuck out, and then another, until Enjolras was laughing helplessly against Grantaire’s chest. He could feel the tension leaking out of him, replaced by giddy exhilaration.

“Is it always like that?” he asked when he could breathe again.

“Do I always get my ass knocked out of the air by terrifyingly gorgeous gods with exploding hands? Sure, around here we call that Tuesday.”

“No, I mean-“ Enjolras took a moment to try to figure out what he _did_ mean. ”I don’t feel quite myself,” he said. “It’s like I left a piece of myself on the ground and it hasn’t found me again yet.”

“I won’t lie, flying’s pretty goddam fantastic. But it’s better with you. Everything’s better with you.”

“More dangerous with me, you mean.” That sobering thought did a little to bring Enjolras back to earth. “As if the death threats from anti-mutant fanatics weren’t bad enough, even my own powers can get my friends hurt.” He lightly tapped the red spot on Grantaire’s cheek from where they’d collided and saw Grantaire wince. He hoped it wouldn’t bruise. _This_ was why control was so important. Grantaire could afford to be carefree and make mistakes; Enjolras couldn’t.

“Worth it,” said Grantaire. Now _he_ sounded like he was having trouble breathing.

Enjolras saved himself having to respond by finally pulling out of Grantaire’s hold and bringing himself to his feet. He offered his hand to Grantaire to help him up – it felt wrong to be standing with Grantaire on the ground beneath him, even if only for a moment.

“I used to dream about flying,” Enjolras confessed. The words came out of him in a rush – too personal, inappropriate, and yet something he suddenly needed to share. “When I was a child. I had those dreams nearly every night. I thought it meant I was seeing the future, and that someday I’d develop powers and fly in my waking life too.” He looked down at his hands and tried not to hate them. “I was half right.”

Someone had to have the power to destroy, to defend with force, to raze the ground so that others could build it up again with something better. He just wished – selfishly – that it didn’t have to be him.

“Well then, here I am to make all your dreams come to true!” Grantaire stretched out his arms again and stood ready to take Enjolras back into the air. ”I’m yours, ergo my powers are yours, ergo you have the power to fly, QED.”

“I don’t think that’s valid,” Enjolras replied, but he smiled a little all the same. “You’re missing at least one premise, and I suspect equivocation.”

“Why shouldn’t I equivocate? To equivocate is to speak equally – isn’t that what we stand for? But if you’re not convinced, here’s another: A friend is another self, you just implied that I’m your friend, ergo I am another you. I have the power to fly, ergo you have the power to fly. _Quod Tamen Erat Demonstratum_.”

“You are impossible.” Enjolras slid his arm into place around Grantaire’s neck. “By your logic I have as many powers as I have friends. I’m a powerful man indeed.”

“As a great sage once said, friendship is magic. You can trust me on that, I have an expensive degree in things dead people have said.”

“Less talking, more flying.”

“Sir yes sir!’ Grantaire lifted back up into the air with Enjolras. “But I can definitely do both at once. I’m a talented multitasker.”

This time, when Enjolras took his shot, Grantaire was ready. He braced himself, and Enjolras felt Grantaire absorb some of the shock of the recoil into his own body. “Again,” he said, and Grantaire turned him towards another target. He hit that one too, with even less trouble.

Grantaire was right. He _did_ feel powerful. And for once that thought didn’t make him feel afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aporeticelenchus on tumblr, and my recipient is dropscones.
> 
> Obviously I went with your "anything Enjolras/Grantaire" free prompt, so I hope this was vaguely in the ballpark of what you're interested in!
> 
> If you're having a hard time picturing their flying pose, it's essentially [this](http://aporeticelenchus.tumblr.com/image/101022557484).


End file.
